


Lingering Looks Part One

by Baby_KAZ2Y5



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Domestic, M/M, One Shot, Tumblr, writing challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 02:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19164205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baby_KAZ2Y5/pseuds/Baby_KAZ2Y5
Summary: Hey, only part one of this. Part two is a work in progress at the moment. Comment and leave Kudos





	Lingering Looks Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, only part one of this. Part two is a work in progress at the moment. Comment and leave Kudos

Dean watched Cas walk out of the room, his eyes trailing over every bit of Castiel he could see. He took in how Cas looked so mundane in Dean’s sweats, riding low on his hips, how the crook of his hip bones had shown when he stood. 

 

Some of his tanned skin peeking out from where Dean’s Led  Zeppelin shirt had crawled up his stomach and Cas hadn’t pulled it down. How his hair was ruffled and sticking up in all kinds of directions, and how the darkness of it somehow made his blue eyes seem more electric. Or how his bare feet padded as he walked out of the room. 

 

His chest tightened when he heard Sam clear his throat and he looked down, keeping his eyes trained on the wooded table below him. He scratched at it absentmindedly, his fingernail moving across the wood that was aged and already worn down with markings.

 

He felt very aware of Sam sitting catty-corner of him, but he kept his head down. They never talked about this. Never talked about how Dean was hyper-aware of what Cas was doing at all times. Or how Dean’s lingering looks were coming up more and more often.

 

They didn’t talk about how Dean had stared at Cas’ mouth for a full twenty-five minutes when he started talking about the ways the ecosystem was helped by bees, Dean’s own mouth quirking into a smile at how invested he was.

 

“You’re in love with him…”  Sam’ voice sounded gently and Dean jumped a bit, his head snapping up to Sam, and he could see something in Sam’s expression. 

 

“No, I’m not. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  he answered almost automatically and he already knew he’d screwed himself by answering too fast. 

 

Sam’s expression softened, “I see how you look at him. It’s how I used to look at Jess…” he trails off and looks away. “It’s how I look at Gabe,” he added, and Dean could hear how much it took from Sam to say those words when they angel barely ever came around anymore. 

 

Dean held back a sigh and he nail scratched at the table again, “He’s my best-friend, I can’t love him,” he grunted out. Dean was never one to show his emotions, and even now, after Sam had shown his, it was hard for him.

 

“I know,” Sam answered, and Dean fully looked at Sam, who had returned his gaze to Dean. Dean could see the hurt and pain in his eyes. 

 

But he could also see understanding there too, and his heart thumped painfully in his chest. 

 

“What if he doesn’t love me back?” he asks, his voice hesitant and quiet, and his gaze fell back down to the table. It was some kind of red wood, he realized. It had a lot of scratches from knives being set on it, and then moved quickly. 

 

It had splatters of black and some kind of grey in it, making it look like it was meant for somewhere where the boys weren’t staying.  

 

“He does,” Sam whispered, his voice just as low as Dean’s was, and Dean looked up, his neck cracking slightly at how fast he moved it, but he ignored the pain. 

 

“He what?” Dean breathed out, his voice sounding a bit like he’d gotten punched in the stomach.  

 

“He loves you,” Sam answered, and Dean felt his heart constrict, the muscles of his body tensing and his finger nails digging into the table. 

 

“He…he loves me…” Dean repeated it, his voice shaking under the information. Sam nodded and moves out his chair, the chair itself scraping across the tiled floor where he’d watched Cas slide across in socks only hours before, his gaze intense on the task of not falling, and his face splitting into a smile at Dean when he managed it. Dean pushed that memory away and looked up at Sam. 

 

“Talk to him about it,” Sam murmured and turned around, making his way from the kitchen. 

 

“How?” Dean asked, and Sam paused at the doorway, turning slightly to look at Dean.

 

“Talk to him how you normally do. And when you get comfortable, tell him you love him,” he answers, and smiles gently before he turns and leaves the room, moving the opposite way Cas had. 

 

Dean nodded to himself. He could tell Cas he loved him. And he would. He’d make pancakes for Cas, watch him slide across the tiles, and then he’d tell him.


End file.
